


Futura Nostro (Our Future)

by StackerPentecost



Series: Solas (Light) [4]
Category: Pilgrimage (2017)
Genre: Adopted Children, Babies, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 09:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19315792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StackerPentecost/pseuds/StackerPentecost
Summary: Ros surprises both her adopted parents.---The epilogue to my Solas series.





	Futura Nostro (Our Future)

**Author's Note:**

> I love this series so much and I'm glad to end it with a happy epilogue and hope I can contribute more stories to this fandom in the future.

The sun shone down on a beautiful spring day, a soft breeze kicking up the wild grass and shaking the budding branches of trees. The smell in the air was welcoming and hinted of freshly turned soil and new growth. 

Diarmuid sat on his knees in the dirt, making little rows with a small metal shovel. He had a basket lined with burlap to his left, filled up with seeds. To his right sat his daughter, who was old enough to sit up on her own and was watching the whole proceedings with curious blue eyes that nearly matched the clear blue sky above. 

When she wasn’t watching, she babbled and cooed, digging her chubby little hands into the dirt and even doing Diarmuid’s work for him by pulling up the weeds that had popped up since the ground had defrosted. He kept an eye on her as he worked, making sure she didn’t get into anything she wasn’t supposed to (she had tried to eat some dirt when they first had sat down together). 

The Mute was never far, busying himself with the harder bits of taking care of their land, like mucking out animal pens, like the ones for the chickens and their single cow, and making repairs to them and their home, readying everything for the coming season. 

They had made quite the little life together, the young man who used to be a monk and the man who still kept his words mostly to himself. It wasn’t an easy life, the one they kept, but they had each other and now they had an adopted daughter to make it that much more worth it. 

Diarmuid looked up when the baby whimpered a little to see her crawling toward him. He dusted off his hands on his breeches and reached to pick her up. 

“What’s wrong, sweet one? Did you prick your finger on one of those nasty weeds? Or was it a bee? I’ve seen those buzzing about our little flowers next to the house.” He ran his fingers through the dark hair on her head, trying to figure out why she was on the verge of tears that soon turned to crying. Only when he heard the sound did it make sense.   
“I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you?” He peered up at the sun, which was almost directly overhead. “It would seem to be that time of day and you only had that small snack since breakfast. Let’s go and get you something, my love, don’t cry.” He kissed her head and wiped her tears before heading up toward the house.

The Mute must’ve heard the baby’s cries for he appeared as they were walking, looking concerned. Rós immediately reached for him and Diarmuid felt more than confident when he handed her over. His partner had spent months getting over the loss of his previous family and working toward becoming the parent their little girl needed and the one Diarmuid knew he could be. Now, he enjoyed being with the baby, rather than finding pain in her presence. 

“She needs to be fed.” Diarmuid explained as they shared a kiss. “Do you think you could? I really should finish the planting as soon as I can.”

The Mute nodded, giving Diarmuid a reassuring smile. They parted with another kiss before the Mute went into the house, cradling the baby close to his side. 

Rós had her own little chair that was at the table height so she could be fed easier, one the Mute had made himself. She also had her own bowl and spoon made for the food she ate, which today was a jar of apple preserves. 

The Mute hummed softly as he sat the baby in her chair and got her food, sitting next to her and beginning to spoon the food up to her. She was rather hungry, so today she was more interested in eating than trying to stick her hand in the jar and throw the food, which she so loved to do. She easily finished everything and the Mute stood to go and get another jar, wanting to make sure she was full. 

“Pa! Papa!”

The Mute stumbled and nearly dropped the jar of carrots in his hand and kicked over a chair in the process. Righting himself, he spun around, blinking at Rós. The baby was pointing at him, a happy smile on her face. Carefully she spoke, “Papa!”, adding emphasis at the end. 

Well. That was unexpected. 

Suddenly the door opened and Diarmuid came rushing into the house, hands covered in dirt. “What happened? I heard a crash.” He looked around and noticed the chair on it’s side. “Are you okay?” He came up to the Mute, immediately going into his triage mode. He’d patched many of his partner’s wounds and he would probably patch many more, so he was already ready to get moving if need be. 

The Mute shook his head and pointed at Rós. The baby shrieked in that way that babies do, patting her hands on the table. “Papa! Papa!”

Diarmuid looked like he’d just seen the Holy Spirit manifest in their house. “I wasn’t aware she could do that yet.” He added rather pointlessly. He went over to the baby, picking up the rag they kept to try and keep her somewhat clean and wiping her little hands as she babbled over and over, “Papa! Papa! Papa!”

“Do you think she means me or you?” Diarmuid wondered, wiping her face before picking her up and holding her close against his chest. 

The Mute had righted the overturned chair and set down the jar, coming to run a hand down the baby’s arm. She smiled a toothless grin and chirped, “Papa!” She wiggled from Diarmuid’s grip and into the other man’s, gripping his shirt in her little fist. “Papa.” She murmured happily, snuggling against him.   
“I think that pretty much settles who she’s talking about.” Diarmuid commented, smiling softly as he watched the baby look so utterly comfortable in the large arms of his partner. “We were trying to figure out what she was going to call each of us.” He reminded, referring to one of their many late night conversations. 

The Mute looked down at the baby, his baby, his daughter and found himself smiling. She seemed so content, so happy and they were the reason for that. She had a home because of them, she was loved because of them. It was enough that his throat threatened to close from the emotion welling up inside him. 

“Papa…” He murmured in that soft, barely used voice of his. He liked the way that sounded, even coming from his own mouth and on his own tongue. When he spoke again, it was as slow and deliberate as it was quiet, “Papa loves you…” He looked up at Diarmuid then and his smile got bigger. “David loves you.” 

Diarmuid’s expression shifted into one of warmth, returning David’s smile. He leaned up to kiss the other man, wrapping an arm around his waist. “I love you too.” He responded, running his fingers through David’s beard affectionately. 

David slipped his arm around Diarmuid and held their little girl between them, reminded yet again that somehow he’d been given a second chance and that all he needed in the world was right here in his arms. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm saintaleksander on both tumblr and pillowfort.


End file.
